My Angel
by ShadowedSoulSpirit
Summary: The long awaited sequel to the Second Victim. Look inside through the eyes of Axel as he observes the crumbling world around him without Roxas. Enjoy!


**My Angel**

**This is dedicated to the members who reviewed The Second Victim,** **Uqluiorra12345, xFallenSpirit13x, Mystery, and Xoxoroxas. I know my deal was five, but I decided to write this anyway because they deserved this. This is an actual sequel to the Second Victim. Enjoy.**

Bitterness eats away at me like erosion. Steadily. Unceasing. And Persistent. Inhuman thoughts fuel my purpose. Roxas should have never died from a bullet he dealt himself. He should be happily experiencing the great parts of life. He should be excelling in an academic background. He should be learning how to drive, the necessities of a college bound student, the downfalls of losing yourself to drinking and smoking.

Xigbar took that all away.

He wrenched it from him the moment those unspeakable words left his now dead lips. _Pig._ The word that literally ripped Roxas's whole world apart, to the point that he saw no meaning left. To the point that he shot himself.

I regret not putting another bullet into Xigbar. Or three, or four. I regret not drawling out his death to make it as agonizing as possible. I don't care if that would up my sentence by decades or even all the way to the death sentence. I would've been worth every second. Every moment. Xigbar deserved the very slaughter of a pig. Why? _Because he is a pig. _Even worse than a pig. Lower than scum. Worthless. I hope he burns in eternity over and over again. I hope he feels fear every time those flames lick his body. I pray he thinks of me each and every time those flames eat him whole. Because he deserves the death and the pain and the suffering more than Roxas!

It makes no difference to me that the judge was lenient on my sentence. I can't register the kindness in his act because there's none to be found. Kindness, as Zexion would put it, is nothing but a mere illusion. The only place it's ever, _ever_ existed has been inside Roxas. Now that he's gone, the kindness has vanished as well. Only my friend is worthy enough to find the kindness when there happens to be none. No one else has, or will ever have that special ability that comprised Roxas. I say that with the upmost truth. Roxas is the perfect being in my eyes.

He's more special than angel. He's more powerful than a God. He's more beautiful than any creature that has ever existed in this world or the next. And he is much, _much_ better than that low life scum bag Xigbar. The potential Roxas had was so radiant; it was like the sun shining. You know it'll be there, every day, whether you take the time to look for it or not. That was my Roxas. A sun. A beacon in the gloomiest of days, with no chance of faltering.

He planned on becoming a professional baseball star. I bet you didn't know that. And now, with him gone and six feet under, no one will know. He can't come back and relive that dream. This isn't a fantasy, this isn't a fairytale. Roxas is dead, he's gone forever, and there's no hope of ever seeing him again. Xigbar took that away from me. He took away that ability to see that sun shining. Now it's just darkness to me. No light. No Roxas. It's almost like I'm the dead one. I feel it. I feel hollow, and sometimes I even beg for that fabled death sentence. But as the days drag on, I never get that relief. The guard would simply observe me with a stone-like face, like I am a pig, and stay quiet as day in and day out I pound on the bars and scream for relief.

They aren't that merciful. They just think I'm upset because I'm in jail, when I'm only 18-years-old. But they are far from ever being right. They can't begin to comprehend what's even going on in my mind. I plot. I plot every single morning until night. I plot and I regret and I wish to change things. I always think of the most sadistic thoughts. What I could've done better in order to make Xigbar experience true torture. I could've cut him up, slowly, deliberately, before dowsing his wounds in gasoline and lighting him on fire. Every so often, I'd put the fire out, and start a new one until he was no longer screaming. Then, I'd proceed to skin him, like an animal should be. All while keeping him alive and conscious. Just hearing his anguished screams would bring pleasure to me. To know the agony he's experiencing would be like a symphony in my ears. Nothing could be more blissful than that.

How I wish, how I almost pray for a redo. Just to do that. He is the murderer of my Roxas, my beautiful light. That is the most treasonous act in my eyes and deserves justly punishment. A simple bullet will not suffice. Not in my standards.

But as the days bleed on, those rational thoughts seemed to escape me as quickly as a candle flame being extinguished. The sadistic part leaves, being replaced by the grieving I had been introduced to my first week.

Roxas was so good at baseball. His batting average was outstanding. He'd play third base, his favorite position on the entire field. Star plays were his kind of thing. It was always a joy, to watch him sweep away his sweat flecked forehead on a day where the persistent sun beat down heavily on them, and awaits the batters first swing. I could remember his reactions as clear as day. If the batter missed, he'd cheer, and taunt, smiling all the while. If the batter hit it, he was prepared to dive for the live ball the moment its course headed directly for him.

By the end of the game, his uniform would be dusted with dirt to the point that the white thirteen could barely be distinguished. His blond hair would be dust coated as well, and his face would be practically painted with it. But the happiness in his blue eyes, a fragment from the sky he radiates from as the sun, would never disappear. Whether, he was at the base or the plate, winning or losing, he was persistent and above all, always happy.

The qualities that defined Roxas were unlistable; there were too many indescribable words that it was nearly impossible to come up with one that fitted him perfectly. I decided not an adjective or an adverb could do it. I settled on a thing most people thought of as a beacon of hope: An angel. He was so pure and clean and beautiful that he could be fallen angel. I always have and always will believe that he was the angel in my life. He will be the only angel in my life. No one else will be able to do it.

Why you ask?

Because my plotting will finally pay off. Tomorrow, I'll kill an inmate at lunch time. I'll do it savagely, and receive the death sentence like I've been so persistent of having. I'll go join my angel in the next life. That is, if he'll have me. I'll take much better care of him. I'll guard him like a loyal servant, and I'll treat him like a royal prince. I will be his shield in times that he requires me. I'll even make a point to seek Xigbar out in order to deal out my revenge on him.

I'll stroke Roxas's porcelain skin with the upmost carefulness. I'll thread my fingers through his hair like it was the most delicate and valuable thing in the world. I'll look into his fragmented eyes from the sky and apologize again and again for failing him in the most terrible way ever. I failed to protect my angel in this life. Hopefully, I can do better in the next.

**-Soul Spirit-**


End file.
